


Though I can't recall your face

by Ice_Rain



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Child Abuse, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, It's Soft, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26690962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice_Rain/pseuds/Ice_Rain
Summary: Quentin swears there's something familiar about the man who befriends him his very first day at Brakebills. Eliot, on the other hand, remembers Quentin quite well from their time together as kids.A walk through moments of Eliot and Quentin's childhood summer together, and their process of reuniting as adults.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 22
Kudos: 102
Collections: A Million Little Times





	Though I can't recall your face

**Author's Note:**

> For the "A Million Little Times" Folklore Event, based on Taylor Swift's Seven. As the tags say, this fic contains some child abuse.

**_Quentin_ **

_Quentin carefully removed the sandcastle mold, not wanting to mess up the final piece of the outer wall. It came off perfectly, with each point completely intact and the imprint of the stone texturing clearly visible. He stood back to admire his handiwork. Quentin missed going to the real beach with its infinite supply of sand, and where digging deep enough would naturally fill his motes with seawater. But there weren’t any beaches near them now in Indiana, and he was coming around to the idea that the sandbox at the playground wasn’t completely terrible._

_A blonde-haired girl about Quentin’s age came over to look at his castle. “Can I be the princess?” she asked._

_“What?”_

_“The princess. Of your castle.”_

_Quentin considered that for a moment. “Does that mean I’m the prince?”_

_“Eww, no! You can be the servant. I have royal hair,” she drawled, twirling at her braids, “and you have, what us royals like to call, commoner hair.”_

_Quentin examined a lock of his shoulder-length hair, frowning. “Well, I could have royal hair. Would you braid mine for me?” he asked, giving her a smile. This girl hadn’t been very nice to him, but he was taught to always be nice to other people. And no one had ever taken an interest in his sandcastles before._

_“Ewwwww!” she shrieked. “Boys can’t have braids!” She laughed and skipped away._

_“I’ll braid your hair,” a soft voice came from behind Quentin. He turned to see a boy about his age, maybe a bit older, with messy brown curls and soft eyes._

_Quentin smiled. “Do you know how?”_

_“Not exactly,” he said, situating himself behind Quentin. “But I’ve done it with shoelaces before, hair can’t be that different.” He started running his hands through Quentin’s hair. Q always loved it when his mom would brush his hair every night, and this felt just as good._

_“I’m Eliot,” the boy said._

_“I’m Quentin. I guess this will make me the prince of my castle!”_

_“What does that make me?” Eliot asked._

_Quentin smiled and looked over his shoulder slowly, careful not to mess up Eliot's progress. “I don’t see why we can’t both be princes.” They sat in comfortable silence for a minute as Eliot continued twisting the strands of Quentin’s hair together._

_“Done!” Eliot announced taking his hands away from his hair. “Ok, we’ll both be princes. But I get to be high prince!”_

\----

Quentin chased the page through the streets of Brooklyn until it slipped past his reach behind an iron gate. He looked longingly through the gap in the fence for only a moment, hardly even considering the notion of giving up. This was Fillory and Further Book 6, after all. He climbed the fence and started pushing through the bushes. And kept pushing through the bushes. And kept pushing. Huh, they hadn’t looked this thick before, had they?

Suddenly he was met with warm air, daylight, and a huge lawn stretching in front of him. In a daze, he walked forward, having no idea where he was going. He finally saw a man lounging above him and smoking a cigarette, his outfit screaming elegance and his posture exuding complete nonchalance. He seemed to have noticed Quentin but wasn’t paying him any mind, slowly exhaling a small cloud of smoke.

Everything about this was completely strange, and yet, there was something that made sense about it all. Like this was where he was meant to be, despite having no idea where _this_ actually was. Even the, quite frankly, gorgeous man spread out on the raised platform in front of him seemed somehow familiar.

The man sat up and gave Quentin a once-over, looking entirely disinterested. He opened up an envelope he was holding, taking one more drag of smoke and removing a single piece of paper. When he looked at it, his eyes widened and his cigarette fell from his fingers. Quentin’s stomach started feeling unsettled, this couldn’t be good.

“Quentin Coldwater?” He said the name softly, slowly, his tongue caressing each sound.

“Uh-huh,” Quentin said. The man’s face quickly returned to a mask of indifference, and he hopped down to walk right up to Quentin.

“I’m Eliot,” he said. He paused for a few moments, as if sizing him up, and Quentin wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. _I’m Quentin_ seemed like it would be awfully redundant. Finally, the man - Eliot - looked down and away. Great, Quentin was already proving to be a disappointment to whatever the hell all of this was.

Eliot looked back up and bit his lip. Then, as if making some kind of decision, he said, “You’re late. Follow me.” Then he walked off, not bothering to look back and make sure Quentin was keeping up.

“Uh, ok. Um, hey, where am I?” What even was happening.

“Upstate New York. This is Brakebills University – you’ve been offered a preliminary exam for entry into the graduate program.”

“Am I hallucinating?” Quentin asked, because this whole ordeal was something he could totally believe he’d conjured in his mind. Going through a magical portal to a strange school to be greeted by an all-too-beautiful man was a fantasy so perfect for Quentin he hadn’t even known to fantasize about it. Until now, it seemed.

“If you were, how would asking me help?” Eliot said incredulously, the corners of his mouth turning up. Fair point. But Eliot’s eyes softened before he added, “Everything’s fine. Promise. Now come on, or you’ll miss it.”

Quentin jogged to keep up with Eliot’s long legs. But something about this itched at the back of his mind. He thought about the stray pages he’d been chasing, and how something was familiar about a piece of paper ending up somewhere impossible.

\-----------------------------------------

**_Eliot_ **

_It was going to be impossible to keep grass stains from getting on his pants, but Eliot didn’t care. He knelt down in front of his new friend, making sure to keep his posture straight to honor the formality of the occasion._

_“For your great service to the nation, you are no longer High Prince Eliot. I crown you High King Eliot of the Western Shore.” Quentin and Eliot had tied a few thin and flexible tree branches into a circle to act as a crown. Quentin lowered it slowly onto Eliot’s head._

_“What about all the other shores? I don’t see why I can’t be High King of all of them.”_

_“No Eliot,_ I’m _king of the Eastern Shore, remember? And we both share the North and South.”_

_“Now wait just a minute,” he said, standing up. “You’re still just prince of the Eastern Shore. You have to earn the title of King before I crown you.”_

_“Quentin, time to go!” A woman called from the benches by the road._

_“Oh, that’s my mom,” Quentin said, giving her a wave. “Will you be here tomorrow?”_

_“I, uh…” Eliot looked down at his feet, kicking up a small cloud of dirt. “I don’t know if my dad will let me…”_

_“You have to come! Please?”_

_“Ok, I’ll try.”_

_“Ok, see you tomorrow, Eliot!”_

_“Yeah. I hope so,” Eliot whispered, but Quentin was already gone._

\----

“Hey, El!” Margo gracefully slid down the stairs to land right beside Eliot. “There’s a new first-year, Gabe, who looks like he would be just perfect for us. I say we give him a little tour.”

Eliot smiled fondly. “Oh, Bambi, perfect as that sounds, I’ve got my sights set elsewhere.”

“Ooh, do tell.”

“That first year I took to the exam,” he said, maybe a bit too casually.

“Really, he was that cute, huh? Well, what are we waiting for, let’s go!”

Eliot hesitated. “I don’t know, Bambi, I don’t want to scare him off. The fabulousness that is the two of us together might be too intimidating. He seems like the nervous type. How about, you take Gabe and I’ll take Quentin?”

Margo snorted. “Quentin? Interesting name. Ok, ok, keep your first-year boy all to yourself. For now.” She gave him a pointed look. “I’ll get Gabe all warmed up for us.” She winked and waltzed off.

Eliot breathed out a sigh of relief. As much as he loved Margo, he really did want Quentin all to himself. He knew she could see right through him, and he couldn’t afford to have this particular interaction scrutinized. Clearly Quentin hadn’t remembered him, but he vividly remembered Quentin. He knew people could change drastically growing up, God knows Eliot did. But call it… curiosity. He wanted the afternoon alone with Quentin, at least, before he got snatched up by some other social group. Eliot took a deep breath and left the cottage to give the new student his first tour of Brakebills.

\-----------------------------------------

**_Quentin_ **

_Quentin went back to the playground the next day, immediately scanning it for any sign of Eliot. He smiled when he saw the boy sitting in the sandbox digging a hole with his hands._

_“What are you doing?” Quentin asked. Eliot looked up and smiled._

_“Digging for buried treasure. Once I found a Kit Kat in here.”_

_“Woah, seriously?” Quentin knelt down and started digging. “Do you wanna play pirates?” Quentin figured if they were going to dig for buried treasure, they might as well go all-out._

_Eliot furrowed his brow. “I’ve never played. But, sure, if you show me how.”_

_“Ok! First things first. We need pirate names!” Quentin started pondering what might be a good name for Eliot. “How about… Dread Pirate El! Has a nice ring to it.”_

_Eliot smiled. “Yeah! Ok and you’ll be… Captain Q.”_

_“Aye, that be a fine name, matey!” Quentin said. Eliot giggled at the pirate voice. Quentin turned and ran off towards the play steering wheel on the other side of the playground. If they were going to be pirates, they needed a ship._

_Eliot chased after him. “Q! Hey, Captain Q, wait up!”_

\----

“Hey, Eliot, wait up!” Quentin called out. It seemed like Eliot didn’t believe in doing this tour slowly. He was talking a mile a minute, pointing things out without taking a single pause. There was so much to see that Quentin couldn’t help but fall behind trying to take it all in. 

“You’ve got Illusions, Healing, Nature, Knowledge,” Eliot casually pointed to different groups of students. They were all performing magic that looked incredible. Was Quentin really going to get to learn how to do all that? 

“So um, what uh, what’s your discipline?” he asked.

Eliot pointed to a group of students levitating some apples. “I’m a physical kid. We move shit, lift shit. Most of us can fly. We also throw the best parties on campus, you’ll have to come by our house. We’re um, having one tonight, if you want to stop by.”

The students made a few hand gestures, and the apples started moving into a different pattern in the air. Quentin couldn’t help but stop and stare.

“Come along, Q, there’s plenty more to see.” Quentin snapped out of it and jogged a few steps to catch up.

“Hey, uh, how did you know people call me Q?” His close friends and family called him that, but he’d never introduced himself that way to anyone here.

Eliot didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Hmm? Just seemed like a natural nickname. Quentin’s kind of a mouthful. So over there you have your psychics…” And the whirlwind of a tour continued.

When there was finally a beat for Quentin to interject, he found himself asking, “So uh, where is the party? That um, you were talking about?” He wasn’t sure why he suddenly cared about going to a party. He’d probably just end up sulking in the corner all night. But he figured, new school, new Quentin. He should try to make some friends. Besides, if Eliot was going to be there, that was at least one person he could latch onto if need be.

Eliot slowed his pace to turn more fully towards Quentin, flashing him a dazzling grin.

“I’ll show you, we can head over to the building now. Let’s find something magic to smoke.” He winked before turning away.

\-----------------------------------------

**_Eliot_ **

_“Ice cream truck!” Eliot shouted. His ears had become well-trained to hear that telltale jingle anytime the truck was within 5 blocks. He was over at Quentin’s house for the first time, and they were making bows and arrows out of sticks and leaves. At least, they were attempting to. It was a work in progress._

_“Do you think your parents will let us…” he started to say, but Quentin was way ahead of him. He’d already opened the sliding doors to run inside where his dad was watching tv._

_“Dad, Dad, can-we-have-money-for-ice-cream?” Quentin said all in one breath. His dad chuckled._

_“Ok, fine, here’s $1 for each of you.”_

_“Thankyou thankyou thankyou” Quentin said, grabbing the bills and running towards the front door. Eliot trailed right behind._

_They each took up watch at opposite street corners to make sure they didn’t miss the truck if it decided to pass by Quentin’s street. Apparently, Quentin had made that mistake once before and vowed to never repeat it._

_“Quentin, Quentin it’s over here!”_

_They both chased after the truck, until it finally stopped on a street corner a block over from the house. There was a short line of kids ahead of them, but the effort and wait was all worth it. They started making their way back, ice cream in hand, happily licking their spoils. But the joy was short lived. When Eliot looked back up from his ice cream, he saw Logan Kinear standing just a little ways ahead of them._

_“Big surprise here, fairy boy has a pink ice cream cone,” Logan sneered, blocking their path on the sidewalk._

_Quentin glanced between the two of them, looking confused. “Um, yeah, cuz he got strawberry…?”_

_Logan then turned his attention to Quentin. “Who’s your boyfriend, fairy boy?”_

_“Go away, Logan.” Eliot just kept walking. Don’t engage, don’t engage, don’t engage…_

_“Or is he a girl, too? Certainly has the hair for it.” He saw Quentin pause, bringing a hand up to his hair self-consciously and biting his lip. There was nothing wrong with Quentin’s hair. In fact, Eliot was kind of jealous of it. He’d always wondered what his hair would look like long, but his parents always made him cut it super short. Eliot hated that Logan was picking on his new friend, but if they could just make it back to Quentin’s house, they’d be fine._

_“Let’s just go, Q.”_

_“You new here?” Logan asked Quentin. “Haven’t seen you around. You don’t want to be hanging out with this loser, trust me.”_

_“Hey! Don’t talk about my best friend like that!” Quentin said. “You’re the loser here.”_

Best friend _? Eliot had never been able to stand up to Logan like that. And to have Quentin defending him like this? He felt so lucky to have met this boy. That positive train of thought ended very quickly when he saw the look on Logan’s face. It was more than just anger. He’d seen Logan look like this once before, which had ended in Eliot getting a black eye that’d lasted for a week. This seemed like it might actually get dangerous._

_“What did you say, punk?” Logan started walking toward them. Eliot wanted to grab Quentin and run, but he couldn’t feel his legs. He hated Logan. He just wanted him to stop existing, to realize what a terrible person he was, to know what it felt like to be on the other end of all his bullying._

_Suddenly, Logan hit himself in the face with his own ice cream cone and stopped moving towards them. He brought the cone away from his face and looked at it in disbelief, his face coated in chocolate._

_Quentin snorted. “Like I said.” He grabbed Eliot’s hand to tug him to the other side of the street. “Man that kid must be really stupid, how did he even manage that?” But when he turned to look at Eliot, his eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, El, you’re bleeding!”_

_Eliot touched his finger to the base of his nose, seeing droplets of red dripping off it when he brought it away from his face._

_“Come on, we’ll tell my parents and get you some tissues.”_

_“Thanks. Um.” Eliot paused, still thinking back to what Quentin had said. “Did you really mean… best friend?” He’d never had a best friend before._

_“Of course we’re best friends!” Quentin looked at him like he was being silly._

_Eliot smiled. “Yeah, best friends.”_

\----

“And this is my best friend, partner in crime, queen to my king, Margo Hanson.” Eliot had just finished introducing Quentin to the less important people hanging around in the cottage living room, and had saved the main event for last.

“So this is him? He’s not _that_ cute,” Margo said. He shrugged in reply, but felt his heart speed up. Normally he wouldn’t mind Margo’s teasing, but he really didn’t want to scare Quentin off. He decided to just distract Quentin from what she’d just said, placing a hand on his upper back to guide him over to the couch.

“Sit down, Q, you’re gonna want to try this.” He conjured a flame with a simple tut, loving the look of wonder on Q’s face. He lit a joint and took a hit, passing it over to Quentin.

“Um, what is it, exactly?”

“Just a little something that’ll get you nice and relaxed. Josh makes the best magic weed. No side effects, promise.” Quentin seemed a little nervous, and looked up at Eliot, seeming to search his eyes for something. Whatever it was he must have found. He gave Eliot a small nod, took the joint, and inhaled deeply.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. This stuff is ridiculous.”

“Plenty more where that came from,” Margo said, taking a hit herself.

“Stick with us, Q, and we’ll show you all the wonders magic can give you that they don’t teach in your classes.”

Margo rolled her eyes at him being a show-off, but he couldn’t be bothered to mind. Quentin’s wide-eyed look of wonder was all he cared about right now.

\-----------------------------------------

**_Quentin_ **

_“Arrr, Captain Q, what’ll be our next plunder?” They were in Eliot’s living room, running around with pillowcases tied over their heads like bandanas, and bedsheets wrapped around them for tailcoats._

_“That over there looks like some mighty fine treasure, arrr!” Quentin said, pointing over to a table with a few different ceramics. Quentin ran over to it and picked up a small vase._

_“How much do you think this is worth, Dread Pirate El?” Quentin handed the vase off to Eliot, but somehow it slipped through their fingers in the transfer and fell onto the floor, shattering into two pieces. They both froze._

_“Oh no oh no oh no!” Eliot cried out. Quentin felt horrible._

_“It’s gonna be ok El, maybe we can fix it.” Eliot wasn’t listening._

_“Q, my dad, he’s gonna kill me. You don’t… Oh my god.”_

_“We can try gluing it back together, do you have glue?”_

_Eliot nodded. “Yeah, in the basement. Ok, I’ll be right back.”_

_Quentin crouched down and lined the cracks in the two pieces up, pressing them firmly together. There didn’t seem to be any small pieces missing, so maybe this could actually work. He really, really hoped it would work. He’d never seen Eliot so upset before._

_“Ok,” Eliot said, coming back into the room. “I have the glue, lemme see the first piece.” Quentin moved to separate the pieces, but they didn’t budge. He tried pulling again, harder. Still nothing._

_“What did you do?” Eliot asked, confused._

_“I just uh. I just pushed them together pretty hard. I guess they just like, joined back up?” Eliot stared at the vase for another few seconds, and then his shoulders relaxed._

_“Thank God,” he breathed. They put the vase back on the table. It was perfect timing. The front door opened, and Eliot’s dad walked in. There was something a little weird about how he was walking. Quentin wondered if he’d hurt his leg and was finding it hard to balance. His mom had sprained her ankle last year and it had made her walk funny._

_“What the fuck are you wearing?” Eliot’s dad said when he saw them, yanking the pillowcase off Eliot’s head forcefully. Quentin quickly took his own off and took a few steps back. He’d heard that word before, but never from his parents, and especially not directed toward him like that. Eliot’s dad grabbed Eliot’s wrist and leaned in closely, his voice low but filled with a terrifying intensity. “Dress-up is for little girls. And now your mother has to wash these again. Are you trying to make trouble for me and your mother?” Eliot slowly shook his head. “I think we’ve been giving you too much freedom. It’s about time you start making yourself more useful in the fields, instead of playing silly games.” He finally released Eliot’s wrist. “Now both of you go upstairs until his parents can come pick him up,” he said, gesturing lazily over to Quentin. They both hustled upstairs as fast as they could._

_“Are you ok?” Quentin asked. He could see that Eliot’s wrist was red from where his dad had grabbed it._

_“I’m fine. I’m really sorry, Q.” Eliot sat on the floor, his back to his bed and knees against his chest. “It’s a good thing we fixed the vase though, it would have been… a lot worse.”_

“Eliot,” _Quentin said. His best friend looked so broken. “I can tell my parents, maybe they can talk to him.”_

_“No, Q. You have to promise not to tell anyone,” Eliot said, suddenly seeming panicked._

_“But, but why? Dads aren’t supposed to be mean like that. He hurt you.”_

_“Just, please Quentin, it’ll make it worse, ok! We’re best friends, right? You said. And that means you have to promise. Cross your heart.”_

_“What?” Quentin asked._

_“It’s a type of swear,” Eliot said. “You say ‘cross my heart, hope to die’ and do this.” Eliot made a hand motion across his chest._

_“Why can’t we just do a pinky swear?” Quentin asked. That’s what they always did where he was from._

_“A what?”_

_“We both link pinkies and say ‘pinky swear.’ It’s the strongest promise.”_

_Eliot thought for a moment. “Let’s combine them. A pinky cross.”_

_Quentin nodded solemnly. He followed Eliot’s lead, sticking his pinky out and crossing it over his chest. Then Eliot reached his pinky out and they linked theirs together._

_“Now we both say pinky cross,’” Eliot said._

_“Pinky cross,” they said in unison. Quentin wouldn’t tell. But he could at least have Eliot come to his house instead, from now on._

**\----**

Quentin was walking to his next class when out of nowhere, someone shoved into him, pinning him against a tree. He looked up to see his roommate, Penny, looking angry. That was unsurprising, as the man seemed to always be angry about something, but it seemed in this particular case Quentin was the source.

“The fuck did you do to my room last night?” he asked.

“Umm, you mean our room?”

“I can’t live in a place with fucking furry posters and shit all over the walls.” He gave Quentin another push against the tree to emphasize his point.

“I mean, they’re not furry posters. They’re fantasy posters, and they’re just on my side of the room…”

Penny breathed out a mocking laugh. “Right. Whatever you want to tell yourself. Unlike you, I have sex in that room, and I am _not_ doing that while having to stare at a weird-ass drawing of a fucking horse-man. Take them down before tonight.”

God, Quentin hated Penny. At least the _centaur_ in the poster probably had a decently-sized dick.

“Excuse me, the fuck did you just think?” Shit. Psychic. Ok, now Quentin was actually a little scared of what Penny might do to him.

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing, get off of him!” Thank God, Quentin had never been more relieved to hear Eliot’s voice.

“None of your business, Waugh.”

“No, pretty sure it is my business to make sure my friend doesn’t get banged up against a tree, and not in the fun way.”

Penny ignored him and grabbed Quentin’s arm tighter. Eliot brought his hands up, ready to start a tut. “Don’t make me.”

Penny scoffed. “Battle magic isn’t allowed on campus, moron.”

“It is if it’s self-defense. Look, I’m not gonna go tattle on you to the teacher, but you should know that violence of any kind is banned on campus. And I can tell that whatever all this is about, it’s not worth it. So just go.”

Penny sighed. “Fine. Whatever. But have them down by tonight,” he said, glaring at Quentin. After Penny was a decent distance away, he brushed off his shoulders and stepped away from the tree.

“You ok?” Eliot asked, putting an arm around him. Quentin relaxed immediately into the touch.

“Yeah. Thanks. You really don’t have to defend me though, I mean, we basically just met each other.”

Eliot swallowed and took a second to respond. “Well, I bond fast,” he finally said, shrugging. “I can help you with your wards, if you want.”

“Um, thanks. That would be like, super helpful.”

\-----------------------------------------

**_Eliot_ **

_“Come over here and help me with this.”_

_Eliot had been outside for hours, and his arms were starting to get really tired. He’d spent most of the morning spraying for weeds, while his older brother had gotten to ride with his father in the combine. They’d just started harvesting wheat today. Eliot hated farm work, but he’d always wanted to ride in the combine. According to his father, it was something he’d have to earn._

_Now, at least, was Eliot’s favorite job. They were feeding the chickens. Eliot’s brother was grabbing bags of feed out of the shed, and Eliot went over to help. He hated how dirty some of their animals were, but he didn’t mind the chickens so much. They were kind of fun to watch, although he didn’t like it when they pecked at each other._

_It was nearly dinnertime before he even got to go inside. Yesterday hadn’t been quite that bad, but getting everything setup for the wheat harvest had set them all back an hour or so. He went straight to his room and collapsed on the bed. If this was what the rest of his summer was going to be like, he’d rather school would just start up already. Sure, he’d probably be in the same class as Logan again, but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with his father all day shouting at him whenever he made the smallest mistake._

_He walked over to his dresser and opened the drawer where he’d hidden the crown he and Quentin made together. He put it on his head, admiring it in the mirror. Quentin was a year younger than him, so they wouldn’t be in the same class, but maybe they’d have lunch and recess together. Then Eliot would finally have someone to play with in school._

_“Dinner’s ready!” His mom called from downstairs. He carefully hid the crown back in his drawer. Maybe this next schoolyear wouldn’t be so bad._

**\----**

“God, you poor first years. I am so deeply sorry for you.” Eliot was walking with Quentin back to the cottage. He and Alice had a big test to study for, and Eliot had insisted that the cottage library would be more useful than the main library. It wasn’t a _total_ lie. The cottage had some relevant books. Well, ok, book. “Last year, Professor March didn’t even teach any first year classes. P.A. was honestly a breeze. I don’t think we even had any tests, just 'group projects' where you could basically goof off and be fine.”

“Lucky you.”

Quentin seemed stressed. He put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “You’ll do great though! Me and Margo can help. Well, more Margo. To be honest the reason it was a breeze was because she was always in my group and did most of the work. Though she certainly ensured I made it up to her.”

Quentin laughed. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

“I’ll just watch, providing both motivation and distraction when needed. And stress relief! In… _whatever way_ you might need.” He waggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly. He could do this. Act like this was just another cute first year. A first year he just happened to remember from a long time ago. A first year who he’d wanted to be best friends with again since the second he'd read the name _Quentin Coldwater_ on that sheet of paper. Who he knew was kind and thoughtful and had clearly been treated extremely well by puberty. 

Quentin rolled his eyes and smiled in his direction. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I can't afford _too_ much of a distraction.” Was Quentin… flirting back? That was certainly unexpected. Eliot tried his best not to let his surprise show on his face. Ok, if that was the way Q wanted to play it, Eliot would be happy to go along with it. 

\-----------------------------------------

**_Quentin_ **

_Quentin was not going to keep going along with this. It had been a whole week since he’d seen Eliot, and he was starting to get worried. Usually they met at the same spot on the playground. Eliot’s parents apparently didn’t let him use their phone, so Quentin couldn’t exactly call him and ask to play. Fortunately, Eliot’s house wasn’t too far from his, and Quentin had learned to ride a bike last year. He decided to take matters into his own hands._

_“Mom, Dad, I’m going for a bike ride!”_

_“Ok Curly Q, be back in time for dinner! And wear your helmet!”_

_It was only about a 15-minute bike ride to Eliot’s house, and there wasn’t much traffic on the roads he took. He knew his parents probably wouldn’t like him going so far on his own, but they hadn’t exactly asked him where he was going, so it wasn’t like he’d lied to them._

_He found a small rock on the ground and tossed it at Eliot’s bedroom window. It was something he’d seen in a movie once. He didn’t get a response, so he did it again. And again. Finally, the window opened revealing a confused-looking Eliot._

_“Quentin?”_

_“Hey, I um. I haven’t seen you in a while. I thought, maybe we could play one of our games?”_

_“Q, you shouldn’t be here… I’m not supposed to… my dad says I can’t play with anyone for a while.”_

_“Will they know if you’re gone, though? Just for an hour. Come on, El, I miss you. I want to play Kings.”_

_Eliot thought for a minute, and finally he grinned. “You mean 'high king and prince.' You’ve still yet to be crowned king, young Quentin.”_

_Quentin stuck his tongue out. “Shut up, I’m barely a year younger than you.”_

_Eliot climbed through his window and shut it behind him. “Just for an hour though, I’ll be in so much trouble if my parents find out.”_

\----

“Oh my God, we are going to be in so much trouble for this.” But even though Quentin knew he should be panicking, he was having too much fun right now to actually care. He suddenly burst out laughing and saw Eliot’s eyes crinkle in response, which just made him feel even more at ease. They were both a little drunk. Well, ok, they were both very drunk. They’d run out of bourbon at the cottage, and Eliot had insisted they go fetch more. Never mind that Quentin didn’t particularly like bourbon, and he suspected Eliot didn’t really either. 

Quentin had thought they would just go on a late night walk to one of the other discipline’s houses. By the time he realized what was actually happening, they were already outside Dean Fogg’s office.

“No, Eliot. There’s no way we can get in there. His wards must be ridiculous.”

“Mmm, you’re forgetting I’ve already spent a year at this place, young Quentin. Me and Margo spent the better part of a week last year figuring out how to break in. Observe.” Something about hearing Eliot’s teasing 'young Quentin' made him relax. It felt nice. Comfortable. 

Eliot positioned his fingers into a square and looked through them carefully, walking a few steps to the right of the door before stopping. Quentin watched as his hands performed a series of Poppers, most of which Quentin actually recognized, but the way Eliot tied them together was unlike anything Quentin had seen in his classes. It was seamlessly elegant. Eliot then walked to the left side of the door, touching Q on the shoulder as he passed by. Quentin wasn’t sure if it was to show affection, or more to stabilize Eliot from falling over. Eliot repeated the movements again, and then looked toward Quentin.

“Ok, open ‘er up!”

“You’re sure? There’s not gonna be like, an alarm that sounds, trapping us in a laser maze or something, right?”

“I promise there won’t be any giant boulders rolling toward us, Q. Just open the door.”

“Hey, Indiana Jones! And you said you don’t watch nerd movies.”

Eliot rolled his eyes, but Quentin could see a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He loved making Eliot smile. With Eliot it felt like, for once, he wasn’t an annoyance. Like maybe he was actually good for something, even if that something was just to make Eliot’s usual mask disappear for a few seconds.

Quentin turned the door’s handle, and was surprised when it actually opened easily. Eliot went straight to a cabinet behind Dean Fogg’s desk, opening both glass doors. He grabbed onto one of the shelves and rotated it, revealing a stash of several different bottles of bourbon, scotch, and some other assorted alcohol.

Eliot took out the cheap bottle of gin he’d brought with him and offered it to Quentin. Quentin took a sip and handed it back. Eliot took a big swig out of it, leaving it nearly empty. Then, with a sidelong glance at Quentin, he took a deep breath and quickly switched out a bottle of bourbon for the bottle of gin. He waited for a moment, not moving, and then let his shoulders relax when nothing happened.

“Wait, does Fogg seriously have like, pressure sensors on these? Or whatever the magic equivalent of that is?” he asked as Eliot rotated the shelf back and closed the cabinet doors.

Eliot looked at him and smiled, shrugging one shoulder with a tilt of his head. “No. I just thought you’d get a kick out of it.”

Quentin broke out into a huge grin and let himself lean against Eliot as they walked out the door. Sure, he could worry about getting expelled. But he was with Eliot. And when he was with Eliot, everything was fine. Better than fine.

\-----------------------------------------

**_Eliot_ **

_Things were finally starting to get better for Eliot. After a week of not being allowed to see any friends, and having to do hours of work in the fields with his dad and older brothers, he was finally allowed to see Quentin. He really had his mom to thank. She had convinced his dad at breakfast yesterday that Eliot should get at least some time each week with friends as long as he still got his work done. Eliot had made sure to be extra helpful that day, working an hour more than usual with his dad, and then helping his mom with dinner on top of it. And that was how Eliot had earned himself his very first sleepover._

_He packed a sleeping bag, a pillow, and his favorite stuffed animal, a brown and white dog named Puppy. He’d come up with the name when he was 4 and couldn’t bear to change it to something more creative. That wouldn’t be fair to Puppy. The little devil would be sure to throw a fit._

_When he rang the doorbell, he was immediately greeted with a very excited-looking Quentin._

_“Come in, come in! My mom baked cookies!”_

_They played all day, until Quentin’s parents sent them to bed at 9PM. Of course, there was no way they were actually going to go to sleep that early._

_For a while they just talked, shifting between topics quickly. About what they wanted to be when they grew up, ghosts that they’d seen, what kinds of pets they wanted – Quentin apparently wanted a dragon he could ride all over the world. Eliot couldn’t help but agree that a dragon would indeed be the best pet._

_At some point Eliot decided, as the older friend, it was his duty to prepare Quentin for next year._

_“Mrs. Miller is nice, for the most part. But she definitely plays favorites. So if you behave really well in the first week of class, you’ll be on her good side for like, the whole year. And then she’ll let you do all kinds of things. Last year she let me go to the teacher’s lounge all by myself to get some stuff from the refrigerator.”_

_Quentin was quiet for a moment. “I um. I don’t know if I’m going to be here next year,” he said quietly._

_“What… what do you mean?”_

_“I heard my parents talking the other day. We move around a lot, and we just got here but, it sounded like my dad’s work wants him to move again.” No. He’d finally made a real friend. A best friend. He couldn’t lose him already._

_“It’s not definite,” Quentin continued, trying to sound reassuring. Though Eliot wasn’t sure if it was more for his benefit or Quentin’s. “They haven’t even talked to me about it, and they always do. Whenever we’ve moved. They make me feel like I have a choice, but I know I never do.”_

_“How many times have you moved?”_

_“This is the fourth place we’ve lived. I, um. I really like it here. And we only just got here, so. I don’t think they’d move again. It wouldn’t make sense.”_

_Eliot heard Quentin sniff. “Hey, you ok?” Another sniff. “Q…”_

_“I um, sorry. I’m fine, I just uh…” Eliot couldn’t see Quentin’s face very well in the dark, but he could tell he was crying. Eliot did the first thing he could think of. He got out of his sleeping bag, unzipped Quentin’s, and laid down next to him giving him a big hug. A hug was what Eliot always wanted when he was sad or sick or hurt. Eliot stayed there holding Quentin until they both fell asleep. Puppy would be fine. He was a bit of a diva, so he’d love having Eliot’s entire sleeping bag all to himself for the night._

_\----_

“No buts, you’re sleeping here from now on. Margo, please knock some sense into the boy.”

“Guys, it’s fine. I don’t _like_ rooming with Penny, but I only have to deal with it for another couple of weeks.”

“Q, he locked you out of your room all night,” Margo said. “On purpose. And he terrorizes you any chance he gets. He’s a dick. You’re not staying there, we have plenty of room.”

Quentin looked like he was finally coming around to the idea, all praise Margo. Quentin had helped him with Logan when they were younger, and Eliot couldn’t stand the idea of sitting idly by while Quentin was bullied by some psychic asshole who acted like he owned the place. Now it was Eliot’s turn to help Quentin.

“Ok, glad that’s settled,” Eliot announced, rubbing his hands together. “Now, let’s not be boring. We’re going to play a game.”

Eliot knew that Quentin loved magic, more than anyone he’d met at Brakebills. So he was going to show him one of his favorite games that involved some flashy spellwork. He took out a box with a wooden pipe, and fished out one of Josh’s latest creations in the magical weed department. He’d smoked it the other day and it had made him feel giddy and relaxed, but wasn’t too intense, which would be perfect for the occasion.

“Your game is us smoking a pipe?” Quentin asked.

“Not just any pipe. It’s enchanted – you think of any animal, and you can make it out of smoke. It lasts for minutes.”

Margo came to stand beside Eliot. “Until it’s killed by my smoke animal, of course. I always win.”

At Quentin’s confused look, Eliot added, “We all send our animals into a duel to the death. You can control them pretty easily – you’ll get the hang of it! And we can have multiple rounds.” Then he stage whispered, “Margo doesn’t actually win every time.”

“Yeah,” she said, “if you mean that one time Todd snuck up behind all of us with a freaking rhinoceros.”

Eliot rolled his eyes. “Ok, you really don’t have to do anything, just inhale, think about the animal, and it’ll happen. Observe.” Eliot took a long drag on the pipe and pictured a strong bull. He was going for the kill, and knew the horns would be useful. Margo took the pipe next, creating a tiger. _Tigress_ , as she would always correct Eliot. It was her go-to.

Eliot watched as Quentin exhaled and a dragon with giant wings formed out of the smoke. Of course it would be a dragon.

“What?” he shrugged. “You never said magical creatures weren't allowed.”

They played several rounds, which got sillier and sillier as they got increasingly high off the pipe. Quentin actually won one of the rounds, but Margo managed to reign victorious in the other three. Eliot didn’t really care about winning. For him it was all about the aesthetic of a beautifully choreographed battle sequence, even if his animal lost the fight in the end. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

They were just finishing the final round, which they’d decided to make sea-themed. Margo’s jellyfish had successfully baited Quentin’s hermit crab out of its shell and then attacked in its moment of weakness. Eliot had gone for an otter, and had gotten too distracted by its cuteness to notice the jellyfish sneak up on it until it was too late.

After his hermit crab’s tragic demise, Quentin laughed and leaned back on the couch, resting his head on Eliot’s shoulder. Margo leaned on top of Quentin, so they were all more or less in a big pile. Eliot felt completely at ease. The two most important people to him were right here cuddled up next to him. He draped his arm over Quentin to pet Margo’s hair. After a few minutes, Quentin’s head started drooping down off Eliot’s shoulder, so he rearranged so that Quentin could rest his head securely against his chest instead. It was only a few minutes before he could tell that Quentin and Margo were both fast asleep. He didn’t even think about moving upstairs to his bed. There was absolutely no reason to leave this couch.

\-----------------------------------------

**_Quentin_ **

_“We’re leaving next week. On Tuesday.” Quentin couldn’t bring himself to look at Eliot. His parents had come into his room last night saying they had something important to talk to him about. They didn’t even need to say anything, Quentin already knew. They promised that this would be the last time, that this would finally be a permanent location. Quentin was having a hard time believing it._

_“Oh,” Eliot said. They were quiet for a while. Quentin kicked at the dirt. “Come on, there’s something I want to show you.” Eliot grabbed his hand and started running toward the woods off the edge of the playground. They climbed through layers of trees until they came upon a small creek with a wooden swing. They sat down on it and started lazily pushing themselves forward and back._

_“This creek runs East. It goes on for a really long time. Pirates used to talk to each other by writing messages and putting them in bottles, and then floating them across the water. So we can talk to each other that way.”_

_Quentin laughed. He knew Eliot was being silly, but it was still nice to pretend. “And you’re sure your dad won’t just let you use the phone?”_

_“No, he… I’m not allowed. I don’t really want to ask…” Right, Quentin felt awful for even bringing it up._

_“No, that’s fine. Yeah. We’ll send each other messages, it’ll be fun!”_

_“Ok, it’ll probably take a few days to get to you. So Monday. I’ll write a message, and we’ll both come here and send it down the creek. And when you get it, you have to write me back.”_

_“Ok, I’ll find a creek that runs west. And I’ll make sure to put it in a really fancy-looking bottle.” He gave Eliot a smile. He knew there was no way this would actually work, but it didn’t hurt to let himself believe, even for just a few moments._

_\----_

“Fuck!” Quentin ran his hands through his hair. He couldn’t understand why this spell wasn’t working. He should’ve picked something easier for his final project, but he really wanted to get this to work.

“I see you’re in a good mood,” Eliot smirked as he sat on the couch in front of where Quentin was perched on the floor, balancing on the balls of his feet with his head on his knees.

“Yeah, I’m doing just peachy, thanks.”

“If you want any help…” He hated how smug Eliot looked. It really wasn’t fair. Eliot barely ever studied, and yet he managed to do fine in all of his classes. Quentin wanted to be stubborn and figure this out himself, but he was mentally exhausted from the hours he’d already put in.

“Fine,” Quentin tossed the book over to Eliot.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Eliot looked at the page for all of 5 seconds before saying, “Ah, I see what the problem is.”

Quentin groaned. “How is it that you can immediately know what I’m doing wrong, you haven’t even seen me try to cast it.”

“I don’t need to see you cast it. This is Poiret magic. There are strict wardrobe requirements for all of his spells. And for this one, you apparently need to have your hair in a braid. You’re lucky you have long hair, otherwise you’d be completely screwed.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eliot shook his head. “Ok, well, I guess I can find Alice, she’ll probably know how to –“

“I can do it,” Eliot said. “Um, if you want.”

Quentin blinked up at him. “Yeah, ok, sure.” Eliot came to sit behind him, running his fingers through his hair gently to get rid of any knots. Quentin leaned backwards into the touch before realizing just how precariously perched he was in this sitting position. He lost his balance and fell back against Eliot’s chest.

“Sorry,” he muttered, sitting up. He could feel Eliot breathe out a small chuckle. “So uh, where’d you learn to do this?”

Eliot’s hands stopped moving for a moment before they resumed gathering Quentin’s hair into separate strands. “Oh, when I was a kid, I had a friend who would let me do all kinds of hair experiments.”

“That sounds fun. Did you ever mess her hair up beyond repair?”

“His, actually.” Eliot’s voice sounded thicker. There was a short pause, and Quentin almost asked if something was wrong. But he figured he must have imagined it, because Eliot’s voice sounded casual again when he continued. “And no, I was a master. I made sure his hair always looked fabulous.”

Quentin felt another soft tug at his hair as Eliot twisted the strands together. He forgot how good this felt. Quentin had always loved it when people played with his hair, but it’d been a while since anyone had offered to braid it.

“You know it’s kind of weird,” Quentin said, “to think about you like, outside of the context of Brakebills? Where uh, where did you grow up?”

Eliot’s hands stilled for a moment again, before continuing their work. “So um, don’t go spreading this around or anything. The only other person who knows is Margo.” Eliot took a deep breath. “I grew up in… Indiana.” He said the state like it was an offensive slur he was being forced to say and didn’t want anyone to hear coming out of his mouth.

“Indiana? That’s funny, I actually –“

Feeling another pull at his hair, Quentin didn’t complete the thought. He was suddenly back in a sandbox on a hot summer day. The swing by the creek. Gentle brown curls falling into his best friend’s eyes as he laughed. Playing pirates and fighting over treasure before diplomatically dividing it evenly between themselves and their stuffed animal crew. Chalk drawings on the sidewalk. Soft sobs in the middle of the night. A message in a bottle sent floating down the creek.

_“One, two, three!”_

_“Hmm, It’s moving pretty slowly.”_

_“Don’t worry, it’ll speed up once the creek widens out.”_

_“Ok. And I promise when I get it, I’ll send a message back to you.”_

_“Yeah, you’d better!”_

_“I will, Eliot.”_

Eliot. _Eliot_. That had been his name, hadn’t it? It had to be a coincidence. But Quentin had lived in Indiana. Granted, it wasn’t a particularly small state, but…

“Hey, El?” Eliot stopped braiding, probably hearing something in Quentin’s voice. “I’m gonna say something, and it’ll probably just sound like nonsense, but um. Maybe not?” He took a deep breath. “I hereby crown you King Quentin of the Eastern Shore.”

There was a pause for several long moments. Quentin didn’t dare turn around.

“Hey, Captain Q.”

Quentin whipped his head around to see Eliot with his usual mask gone, giving Quentin the warmest smile. They stared at each other for a few more seconds before both surging forward into the tightest hug Quentin had ever experienced. Q brought his hand up to the back of Eliot’s head, tangling it in his hair just to hold him there, to make sure this was real, that he’d actually managed to find his best friend again after all these years, _safe_.

“So wait, you actually… you actually got that message I wrote? How?”

“I don’t know,” Quentin mumbled into Eliot’s shoulder. “I just found it on my pillow one day. Magic, I guess.”

They stayed like that for a while, until finally Quentin said, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. So you recognized me? When did you…”

They finally pulled apart enough to look at each other, but their arms were still touching. “Yeah, uh, actually the first time we met. I mean, the name Quentin Coldwater isn’t exactly easy to forget.”

“Why didn’t you say something? Eliot…”

“I didn’t want… I was worried… it’s not important.” Eliot said. “I’m just. Glad to have my best friend back.” And at that, Quentin _melted_. Quite literally, tucking himself right up into Eliot’s chest, breathing in the scent of him.

“I missed you, El,” Quentin said muffled against Eliot’s shirt. Eliot squeezed Quentin tighter in response. He was running his hands absentmindedly through Quentin’s hair when they heard Margo’s voice.

“Ok, what kind of sappy shit did I just walk in on?”

Quentin reluctantly pulled away, laughing and brushing a tear from his eye – he hadn’t even realized he’d been crying.

“Holy shit, Coldwater, what happened to you? If Penny did something I swear – “

“No, it’s fine Margo. I’m good,” Quentin said. He looked back at Eliot and smiled. “Really good.”

Margo looked between the two of them in confusion. “Ok fine, enjoy the rest of your moment or whatever. But El, we need to finish our project for Lipson. You get 5 more minutes.”

“Yes, Bambi.” He turned back to Quentin. “I, uh, should grab my books and everything. But um, we’ll talk? Later?” Quentin had never seen Eliot look so hopeful before, and he didn’t even seem to be trying to hide it.

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely.”

Quentin went upstairs and spent a while trying to study. He wasn’t sure when Eliot wanted them to talk, but it was getting late and he was starting to become restless. Surely they must be finished with their project by now? Finally he decided to screw it and just go to Eliot’s room. It wasn’t until he’d already knocked on the door that he realized he was in his pajamas, a t-shirt and long fuzzy bottoms. Well, too late now.

Eliot opened the door and looked Quentin over slowly, a soft smile playing at his lips.

“Hey,” Quentin said after a brief silence.

“Um, you wanna come in?”

Quentin nodded and closed the door behind him. Eliot motioned for him to sit on his bed, taking a seat next to him. They both started talking at the same time. 

"So um - "

"How was -" 

They laughed lightly, and Eliot gestured for Quentin to go first. 

"How was it after I left? I um. Sometimes I worried about you, you know? With everything..." This probably wasn't the best way to start off their conversation, but it had been eating away at Quentin's mind for a while. It had been scary at the time, but as he'd gotten older he'd begun to realize the seriousness of what he'd witnessed that day when Eliot's dad had come home and grabbed him. He often thought back to that boy he'd known for a summer and wondered, hoped, he'd end up ok. 

"My dad was a dick. And if you thought he was a dick before, you didn't see him when he found out I was gay." Quentin's heart sank. He reached out and grabbed Eliot's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "But I made it here all in one piece, so, you know. Ended up fine I guess." Eliot shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal. But Quentin knew. He hated that Eliot's mask was back up. He didn't need to do that with him. 

"I'm so sorry. You deserved so much better. No one deserves that." He looked up at Eliot and could see tears gathering in his eyes.

Eliot looked away and sounded like he was trying to keep his voice steady when he said, "So um, how was New Jersey? I guess you ended up staying there a while after all?" If Eliot wasn't ready to talk about it all, then Quentin wouldn't push. 

"Yeah, that was the last time we moved. It was fine. I missed you, you know? I had a friend, Julia, who would play fantasy games with me, but her roleplaying skills were severely lacking." 

Eliot laughed, and Quentin felt relief flood through him. “Yeah, I'm sure no one could quite live up to my acting talents. I was gifted from a young age." They smiled at each other, but then Eliot's face turned more serious. "I just, um. Quentin, you have to know that, that you meant so much to me then. I… it was um, it was really hard when you were gone? But uh, I had all those times together, with you, to think about. Um. When things got…" It seemed like he was trying really hard not to cry. "You were the first person to show me that… Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m not. I’m not usually like this.” Eliot rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath.

“El, it’s ok.” Quentin whispered softly, placing a soft kiss on Eliot’s forehead. Maybe the gesture should have felt weird, but in the moment it just felt like the right thing to do. 

“I just. I missed you, Q.”

“Eliot, is it um...” Quentin paused for a few seconds. “Would it be weird if I, uh, stayed here tonight?” He said it so quietly, worried that anything louder might take Eliot away from him. Might seal him off from him again. Make him go back to being the person that Quentin wanted to _know_ more than anything, but who always kept him at just too far of a distance.

Eliot turned and wrapped an arm around him. “I would really like that.” 

They settled naturally into their usual position from sleepovers together, Eliot’s chest pressed against Quentin’s back. It was so nice to be close to him like this, to feel his breathing. It made him feel grounded, like there was nothing to be worried or stressed over.

They stayed like that for a while, until Quentin tired of the position and flipped over to face Eliot. He swung one of his legs in between Eliot’s and pressed his face tight against his chest. Eliot was so warm, and he felt so solid. Quentin didn’t want to go anywhere else, ever, besides right here lying on top of him.

As he lightly trailed his fingers over Eliot's arm, he felt Eliot’s breathing start to quicken. It wouldn’t have even been noticeable, except that his head was being moved along with each rise and fall of Eliot's chest. Quentin truly didn’t know who made the first move, but one moment they were in each other’s arms like that, and the next they were kissing. Quentin honestly barely even noticed it was happening at first. It felt like such a natural extension of the way they were holding each other, comforting each other, being with each other. It just made sense to be pressed against Eliot in every possible way, including their lips, and now their tongues. Warm shockwaves ran through every part of Quentin at each movement, his whole body tingling with electricity. It felt so… right. Like he was finally coming home.

Quentin broke away, short of breath. “Sorry, is this weird?” he asked right against Eliot’s lips, running his hand across Eliot’s cheek and dragging it slowly down his chest. “I didn’t actually… when I came in here I wasn’t trying to – “

Eliot pulled him down into another deep kiss, gently reorienting them to get Quentin underneath him.

“Maybe it should be, but um. No, it… it’s really not?” Eliot said in between placing feather-light kisses over Quentin’s neck.

“Yeah,” Quentin sighed happily. “Yeah, ok, good.”

“Yeah. It really is.”

\----

_“Q! Hey, Q! Wait!”_

_Quentin was just getting into his car, all of their family’s belongings for the road trip ahead already packed into the trunk. He turned to see Eliot running down the street towards him. Eliot stopped when he got onto Quentin's driveway, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “I just, I just wanted to say goodbye,” he huffed out._

_“I’ll see you again, ok? I promise,” Quentin said, giving Eliot the bravest smile he could muster._

_“Pinky cross?” Eliot looked at him with big, brown eyes._

_Quentin made the motion across his chest and linked their pinkies together._

_“Pinky cross.”_


End file.
